


First Kiss

by disastertown



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety, Awkward!Sherlock, Drinking, Eating Disorder, Experienced!John, First Kiss, Karaoke, M/M, Virgin!Sherlock, glasses!Sherlock, highschool, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:42:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disastertown/pseuds/disastertown
Summary: Sherlock's first kiss





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock is a domestically abused 18 yr old. He seems to be a model student for he was brought up in an extremely strict home but he actually has quite a number of scars inside. He meets an older person named John online and they decide to go out for lunch and karaoke.

“I don’t eat when I’m uncomfortable.” He said each word out slowly so it sounded like he was stuttering to a casual listener.   
“You’re not comfortable with me?” John asked in a playfully hurt voice.   
“Well, I’m uncomfortable because I’m outside my house,” Sherlock explained.   
They went into a burger shop.   
“Why don’t you eat something small? Come on, I’ll buy it for you. Don’t be shy,” John smiled.   
“No I really can’t eat,” Sherlock replied, sighing on the inside. He had been here many times before.   
“Why can’t you eat when you’re outside the house? What is the problem?” John asked softly with curiosity.   
“I don’t have anywhere to throw up.” Sherlock blurted out frankly. He had so many secrets to keep already he might as well reserve some. Take it or leave it, he thought.   
“You serious?” John laughed, “What made you like this? Do you have that thing- what’s it called-- where you’re afraid of eating so you have to throw up all the time? Are you afraid of gaining weight?” It was not offensive or anything, not like the stabbing hurt he got from his unapproving parents all the time. Maybe the softly intimate voice John had at the moment sounded genuinely concerned or innocently curious.   
“No I don’t-- throw up,” Sherlock corrected him, “I don’t. It’s just, it’s more comforting to know you have a safe place to throw up when you eat, and nobody is looking at you.”   
John started nodding when Sherlock got into his mid-sentence. “Sounds like anxiety,” he said, “Doesn’t it sound like anxiety? Do you have anxiety? Do you get nervous a lot? Don’t be nervous.” John smiled at him as he got is tray with a burger on it. Sherlock felt a pang of something. If his heart had been a rusty and abandoned double base cello John’s words had seemed to pluck at a string letting out a tune Sherlock had never heard before. The pang almost brought tears to his eyes. He felt the behind of his eyeballs moisturize and the tip of his nose felt spicy.   
“Well I’m not nervous now. It’s just—“   
“I know,” John said and took his seat. 

The burger was disappearing quickly with John’s big bites. As Sherlock had done many times before in a distant and sad sort of way, he watched him devour. People ate like they really meant it, like it was delicious. It made him full just to see people quench their hunger like that.   
“So how do you eat in school?” John inquired.   
“Well it got serious when I was in 12th grade,” Sherlock began. John let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe he had even rolled his eyes. Sherlock would never know. He continued, “You know the time when the whole school exam things are all over. I didn’t have lunch in school and ate when I got home.”   
John stared at him with an expression he couldn’t read.   
“I think, I’m getting better,” Sherlock said looking up at his eye with a hopeful smile to decorate the latter words.   
“Getting better? You’re not eating with me,” John retorted.   
“You’re not familiar,” Sherlock argued. It sounded dumb.   
“So what, I have to meet you six times and then you’ll eat with me?”   
Sherlock leaned back comfortably on his chair and let in a deep breath as he gazed out the glass windows and doors behind John. “Maybe.” 

"What's this?" John poked at Sherlock's blue scarf he had put to his side because the cramped karaoke room was warmish, "Is this for your neck?"   
Sherlock glanced at John after some minutes and saw John was wearing Sherlock's scarf.   
Sherlock sat down beside him so that the sides of their thighs were touching. John pulled his hand onto his lap and held it tight. A tint of alcohol poked Sherlock’s nose as he was pulled over to lean onto him and he gripped his microphone nervously. It did not feel bad at all. It was just that he had never done it before.   
“I know this song,” Sherlock exclaimed abruptly.   
“Then sing it with me.”   
The pointer indicated that the lyrics were about to begin. The dizziness and nausea seemed to be gone now for it was easy for Sherlock sing it together, the whole thing, holding hands and his body seeming to get closer and closer to John even though they were already touching. Sherlock had never known he knew the whole tunes of ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis so perfectly that he was able to sing all of it. There had been a time when he had listened to it a couple of years ago but Oasis had never been a teenage frenzy. Although he had nothing against them and loved them they had passed on like a nice spring breeze during the cycling seasons of life. He wondered why he had never considered singing Oasis in the Karaoke before. It was actually fun singing it, rebuilding feelings attached to the song and making the unfamiliar familiar. When they were done, he realized the next song was what he had reserved—‘Stop Crying Your Heart Out’ by Oasis.   
He got up and sat on the other bench. The familiar hardcore guitar tunes blasted from the speakers and he felt his heart and gut react to the tragedy associated with the original soundtrack of ‘The Butterfly Effect’. Maybe he sniffed a bit too. For a moment he was afraid of being dizzy and nauseated again but he realized he had carried out the first line quite firmly on key. Something had cured his condition. He was not going to think about his condition was going to focus on the music. He carried on. It felt as though he had never sung this good before on a karaoke machine. The song was sad. Especially the stop crying your heart out part. He himself sounded terribly sad. He reckoned he was. John probably thought he was a sad person, probably broken or twisted on the inside. Maybe he was wondering what made him like this. Whatever. It was not a love song but if John did not want to handle Sherlock’s vintage misery that was none of his business. It felt good singing. John probably did not like Sherlock anyway since Sherlock had been internally freaking out ninety percent of the date.   
When Sherlock was in the middle of the second verse John pulled his arm and Sherlock found himself sitting next to him, the same position they had been in when they had sung the former song. Before it was both of them looking at the karaoke screen. Now it was just Sherlock singing while looking at the screen and John looking back into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock instinctively looked away, closed his eyes and kept singing. His voice was getting weaker though. John was cradling Sherlock’s palm—sort of massaging it really hard—was he drunk?-- before he planted a heavy kiss on the back of his hand. Sherlock admitted to himself that he saw it coming. His ex had done the same thing before. Why was everyone obsessed with his hand. John’s face got really close to his. Maybe he was trying to get Sherlock’s glasses off. He failed anyway. Maybe John had muttered “You’re really cute,” over the guitar bangs. John kissed the middle Sherlock’s cheek (by this time the singing had to stop), his forehead, and then the part of the cheek that was really close to Sherlock’s lips. The kisses went so fast Sherlock did not realize it when he did realize that their lips had met. It stayed collided that way for a while, Sherlock’s heart doing a somersault and then Sherlock discovering that he could breathe with his nose. John sucked Sherlock’s bottom lip and then his top tip over and over it felt good and like a vacuum cleaner. What was he supposed to do. Sherlock realized after he had opened his mouth slightly in accordance with John that in the books they opened their mouth. John alternated between the vacuum cleaner and the tongue sliding on top or under the tip of Sherlock’s before making a wet trail with his tongue over the ring of Sherlock’s inner lips. Sherlock tasted alcohol. He felt John’s soft nose breathing hit his cheeks and thought John would feel his breathing too. He wondered then why people became so breathless in the movies. John preceded to the alternations after the wet ring trail when Sherlock broke the kiss by turning his head to the side. Sherlock did not know why he had broken the kiss as he stared at the floor, breathing an ounce heavier than before. It was probably guilt or the fact that John had urgently gripped his shoulders before the break.   
“A lot of first times today, huh?” John said softly.   
Sherlock did not remember so well what happened next. They stared at the screen holding hands, still in the pre-kiss position as the song finished on its own and they scored a 97 out of a hundred points “even though they hadn’t—(smile)” as John put it. John kissed Sherlock’s cheek and asked him if he couldn’t get a kiss so Sherlock kissed John’s cheek and John made a happy face. The rest was a blur- Sherlock getting excited when he realized the next and last song was Hozier’s “Take Me to Church,” Sherlock probably springing up and saying something along the lines of “I fucking love that song. It’s gay. Have you seen the music video? It’s really good. Have you seen it?”, John sighing and cracking up like he was ridiculously dumbfounded by Sherlock’s post-kiss reaction and them scoring a hundred on the last song with them muttering “they probably knew this was our last song. Like, oh, let’s just give a hundred to them.”   
“I have to go home to eat lunch now,” Sherlock said, can’t help but smiling.   
“Why can’t you just have lunch with me?” John asked.   
“You’re not familiar,” Sherlock said for the second time that day.   
“I think you got the order wrong. You eat with someone and THEN you get familiar with them. Isn’t that the order?” John used hand gestures to explain his point.   
Sherlock shook his head and made a sorry face. “I can’t.” And John understood.   
John cupped Sherlock’s face for a goodbye kiss before they left the room. Their lips met and Sherlock quickly said “no” before he could think it through.   
“Too much for the first time?”   
“Yeah,” Sherlock said.   
John held the door open for him and beckoned him to pass first. Sherlock put his scarf up to cover his lower face as the chilly wind whipped at them. It did not seem to smell of alcohol or maybe Sherlock’s smell buds had gotten used to the scent. 


End file.
